


Eyes the Night

by CasmusRex



Series: Depraved Kinks with Real Motivations [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Come as Lube, Concerned Ron Weasley, Harry Potter Has a Large Cock, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, POV First Person, Penis Size, Rare Pairings, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Size Kink, Unknowingly Pansexual Ron Weasley, Voyeurism, Watersports, beastiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26737522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasmusRex/pseuds/CasmusRex
Summary: Ron Weasley loves his friends dearly and wants to ensure they remain safe after the war. However, with Harry sneaking out of the dorm every night, he's become a bit concerned. That is, until he finds out just what Harry has been up to.
Relationships: Firenze/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: Depraved Kinks with Real Motivations [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944508
Comments: 6
Kudos: 100





	Eyes the Night

**Author's Note:**

> So, I just wanted to leave a note to ask for some feedback. Because of my schedule, I write these just before posting and generally have no idea of a plot, just an idea for a pairing and a kink. I know that my writing style can become unclear or heavy; but I think it's something not usually found with these sorts of kinks.
> 
> So, if you're interested, I'd love to hear what sort of pairings/kinks you'd like to read! Thanks so much!

I can't remember when I decided it was a good idea to follow Harry out of bed. I had heard the tell-tale squeak of his bed springs a few nights, the soft rustling of clothes being pulled on, and the soft thud of the door being closed behind him. I guess some part of it bothered me; the jealous part that insisted that, as his best mate, he should tell me everything. When he returned nary an hour later each night, the musky scent of the outdoors wafting through the room, I still lay awake wondering.

This night, though, I had dressed myself behind my bed curtains—even my shoes—and waited. He was later this time. I worried a bit that I'd doze off and have the embarrassment of being discovered in the morning fully clothed. But, sure enough, I could hear Harry stir.

By the time he had gotten dressed and left the room, I had almost gone off the whole idea. But I needed to know if he was endangered. The prat had barely survived the war in the first place, and I didn't go through the last seven years just to have to deal with... that. Hermione would be shattered. I know, no matter when it comes, I'll die last. I have to. I don't have a lot of good qualities and I don't think I could have... All families pay for their happiness in grief at some point or another, and I think that's my price for how lucky I've been, to have them. To know that they can have died happy, not missing some part of themselves, even if I have to go on.

But even that moment when we thought he had gone. It was like some breath had left me and I'd never breathe as deeply again, never feel as full again, never look at the world and think everything was alright because he wasn't there. And after Fred...

I can't ever let anything happen to any of them.

So, I quickly scrambled out of bed, most likely disturbing my dormmates. I didn't care. I had to be swift to catch up to Harry.

I burst from the common room entrance to see Harry's shadowed form turn a corner in the distance. I cast a spell to muffle the sounds of my footsteps and did the best I could manage with a disillusionment charm. With how dark it was at night, I knew I was near impossible to see, even with my lack of skill.

I followed Harry down the stairs (which, due to their motion, required me to come much too close for comfort). Harry didn't seem to take any stock of his surroundings. He never had, for the major events of his life had presented themselves loud and obvious. It was unlikely Harry had ever needed to take notice of others, when so many took notice of him. I silently praised Merlin for the fact.  
When we had reached the ground floor, Harry proceeded out the postern gate adjacent to the entrance hall (the main doors were much to heavy and noticeable to be of any use to a sneak). I noticed he wasn't wearing any socks, which was sort of odd; but the sort of detail my idiot brain picks up when there are much more important details to be gleaned.

I took no notice of where we were headed until we had gone past Hagrid's hut, past the paddocks, and into the forest. This was, to be fair, the last place I expected Harry to go, given everything that had happened, so my momentary shock was understandable. I'm also very easily creeped out, so I tend to make elaborate excuses for my own behavior.

I made sure to keep my eyes on where my feet landed. Muffling spells were quite good on flat, solid surfaces, but the porous loam I trod on would let the sound of a twig snapping fly right out into the quiet night. A detail I didn't know I knew and, as my thoughts again drifted, probably came straight from Hermione's mouth rather than any study on my part.

Harry came to a clearing. A grandiose description for a small ring of moonlit grasses, beset by a copse on a mound of rocks in the center. Harry took a look around (thankfully taking no notice of the curiously arranged tall grass where I stood) and, seeing he was alone, removed his shoes.

Now I was very curious, indeed. Because, in all of my experience, I didn't know what exactly would cause a person to do such a thing. Was he going to perform some strange dance in the clearing? Perform a ritual? Though, to be perfectly honest, I didn't know of any that required you to be barefoot... not that that's saying much. Was he, I don’t know, just wanting to feel the grass beneath his feet? Feel connected to something alive?

I knew the feeling, during the summer sometimes clinging to Hermione for dear life while I wept. I felt an emptiness I couldn't explain knowing Harry didn't have that. He and Ginny... they never would have worked. Not only because of everything that had happened. I just knew...

Alright, I'd seen the peering in the shower. Harry locking eyes with my cock; or, really, any cock attached to anyone who happened to be in the shower with us. I'd seen how his own had thickened and reddened almost imperceptibly—or as imperceptibly as Harry was capable of. Not that... I was straight; but for someone as slight as Harry, it's actually a rather impressive attachment. I mean, if anyone were to have the chance, of course they'd look. It's hard not to. It's sort of all up in your face.

And it's hard (not that way) to understand that other people don't think the same way you do. Don't have the same tastes. In hindsight, yeah, I can see that Harry's into blokes. I can't believe I'm going to say it, but the fact that Ginny has barely any tits probably factored more into that relationship than anything. Cho, too.

Was it really any surprise when Harry had exactly two crushes in seven years? The amount of jizz I had sprayed thinking about literally any and every girl I could lay my eyes on sort of proved the point. Not that every guy does that. I don't know. Life is confusing. I could sort of fool myself that Harry might sleep with Hermione. Utter stupidity. Maybe if we'd had another four years to kill on our quest it would happen. I think not. Hermione has tits.

It turned out that my musings on Harry's sexuality were apropos as Harry removed his shirt. Like I said, I was straight; but not incapable of recognizing that men could be beautiful. Harry was one of those men. His childhood meant he had never really developed the wide, flat planes of a man's body. His shoulders were slight. He still clung to some baby fat that rounded out his hips. And, in the moonlight, the smooth curves of his body shone perfectly, almost featureless except for the dark spots of his nipples.

I half expected what came next when Harry spun around. I saw his arms jostle as he untied the waist of his pajama trousers and, fingers through the elastic, lowered them down over his tight, round bottom. He stepped out of his trousers and made another circle of a glance around the clearing, his large, soft cock bobbing with each pivoting step.

I won't ever admit to chubbing a little in my pants.

Harry lowered himself to his knees and my breath hitched in anticipation. Who else was coming? I felt a little guilty that I was prying into Harry’s private life now. It wasn’t as if Harry watched as Hermione and I had sex and I was just returning the favor. But I couldn’t think of a way to extract myself without drawing attention. Without the distraction and focus of travel, Harry was sure to notice the grasses mysteriously part around my departing form. And, besides, it was plainly obvious that Harry was preparing himself to give a blowjob and I had, I admit, some curiosity as to who would be on the receiving end.

It fit into a pattern with me. I didn’t intentionally seek out these situations. I was reminded of the time in second year when I had burst into a fourth-floor bathroom, nearly pissing myself after staying beside a petrified Hermione so long. I expected to release a bucketful in the urinal but, instead, came face to face with the sight of my very own brother, Percy, with the business end of his very stiff (and very long) cock shoved down some Hufflepuff girl’s throat.  
I think my skin acquired a permanent pink tinge after that one.

My reverie was broken by some movement in the copse of trees that laid before me. Whatever I had been expecting, it was not the graceful silhouette of a centaur stepping carefully down between the boulders that dotted the boundary. As the light struck his face I immediately recognized him as Firenze, our erstwhile Divination teacher and, apparently, fan of very naked Harrys.  
Most people new to the Wizarding World, Hermione most likely included, would probably be more surprised, I suppose. But excepting the fact that humans, for the most part, bred only with humans, sex with sentient magical creatures wasn't exactly uncommon.

And if Harry liked cock, well, then he would get it by the foot.

The stars had aligned in some way that I would know if I had paid attention in Astronomy; but I found myself at an ideal position to see the entirety of the scene. Firenze ambled closer to Harry and Harry's cock filled with delicious anticipation. I could see clearly as his cock inflated, rising to its full, impressing height, the foreskin sliding back to reveal a glistening head. My mind bricked.  
Nothing prepared me for the moment Firenze fit Harry neatly between his hind legs. I saw Harry reach up to grip the long, thick length of Firenze's cock. When Harry stretched his neck up to mouth at the wide, flared head, I nearly lost my cool.

By now, I admit, my cock was straining the confines of my pants. I dared not touch myself for fear of breaking the spell. I don't think I got off so much on the act I was witnessing; but, rather, small touches. The sensuous way Harry stroked Firenze's long, hanging dick. The way he twisted his neck down to suck at the biggest set of bollocks I had ever seen. The way Harry's cock twitched with his rapid heartbeat, impossibly hard.

Harry couldn't take much in his mouth, but Firenze seemed unperturbed. I could see the muscles in his hind flex, his abs rippling with his rapid breathing. I was too far away to hear much, but I could see his lips twisted, moaning while my best friend did his best to milk his huge cock.

Harry paid no attention to himself, so focused on pleasing the centaur. I eyed the taught, smooth curve of his arse and wondered, for a moment, if he would be so kind as to let me stuff his hole with my cock. I would slam in so hard that my sack would smack up against his, bucking his cock against his stomach. I'd meld so completely that he would have no choice but to cum, untouched, all over the forest floor. Or, if I were so inclined, to jerk Harry's dick all over Firenze's and watch as Harry delicately licked his own cum off.

Inhibitions lost in the night, my thoughts knew no gender, no boundaries, only the pressing need of my hard cock and the desire to do anything, see anything, if it would make Harry happy. Was he like this deep down? Would he have liked, in previous years, if I had pinned him to my bed and stuffed his mouth full of my dick? Would he want me to see as his hole stretched over my fat length, filling him like he wanted?

I would never know. And, even though I knew for sure I liked girls, some part of my regretted never letting Harry know how forceful I could be in my care. How much I cared. How far I would be willing to go to give him whatever he needed.

Instead, I sat there, watching my best friend suck on a horse cock like a wanton whore. He was louder now, and I could hear him on the wind: sucking, wet noises and loud choking coughs as he gagged and moaned. It must hurt something fierce.

Harry's ministrations paid off, though, when Firenze rear legs began to churn. Harry slid his hands rapidly over the slick length of him and teased the hole at the end, his tongue dipping entirely inside.

The first gush of cum from Firenze's cock hit Harry's face with a wet splat and followed in copious amounts. It ran in rivulets down Harry's cheeks, melding to coat his chest. Some even spilled over his shoulder, snaking down his back, in between the cheeks of his arse. Aiming deliberately, Harry coated his cock in the thick essence.

Firenze, spent, at last began to soften and craned his head down to see Harry. Some words I could not hear passed between them and Firenze stood his body upright again. Harry, at last, reached down and began to stroke himself. He fell backwards, gazing up at Firenze's underside, maybe fantasizing at the image of the large, flaccid cock he had just so skillfully brought off. Harry was so dirty, so covered.

Firenze spoke again and stamped a hoof. I couldn't hear but saw, twinkling in the moonlight, a stream of piss issue from Firenze. It hit Harry on the chest in a sharp jet, rebounding in a mist of droplets. It splattered all up and down Harry's body, washing away the cum collected there. It hit Harry in the face and he opened his mouth, savoring experience of being so debauched.

Even as the jet from Firenze slowed into a trickle, Harry's hand sped up on his own dick, roughly pulling the skin up over his cockhead. I could see him reach down to pull on his balls. When he came, his load shot heavily skyward as Harry pointed himself between his legs. I couldn't see but could imagine the thick wads of cum arcing through the air to land on the grass.

Once sated, Harry rose and rested on his elbows briefly before clambering out from between Firenze's legs. He came round to the centaur's front as Firenze, eyes lidded, bent down and engaged Harry in a kiss.

Luckily, I could see the opportunity of their distraction for what it was and backed away from the clearing softly. It wasn't until I was some distance away that I turned and walked, my own cock still half hard and awaiting my attention, toward the castle.

Harry was safe that night; but, to assuage my worry, I thought I had best check on him the next.


End file.
